


Signed, Sealed, Never Delivered (I'm Not Yours)

by JustLyra



Category: MotoGP RPF, Motorcycling RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-05-13 01:50:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5690029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustLyra/pseuds/JustLyra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dani's letters to Jorge over the years of their relationship evolving</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please excuse the cheesy as fuck title. It just worked.  
> I've no idea if this letter/notelet format will work, but it's something that got me curious enough to try.

Picking up the box, bottle of whisky in his other hand, Dani padded into the lounge, the fire already crackling in the hearth. Sitting down, cross legged, his back leaning against the arm chair he opened the bottle, not bothering with a glass as he took a swig, wincing as the liquor burned his throat. Taking the lid from the box he took a breath at the sight of the handwriting on the bundle of letters, all written, but never sent. Picking up the first one he ripped open the envelope, taking another swig as he unfolded the paper.

*

_4 May 2002 – Jerez _

_Puig hates you already. He hates the fussing about you, he keeps mumbling about the ‘circus’ around you and your birthday._

_I don’t mind you. You remind me of me a little bit. You look lost in your eyes, the arrogance doesn’t fool me. I think if we had different managers we could be friends._

_I do wish you’d keep your shirt on though, it’s hard enough in this paddock without you flashing yourself about. Puig has a special tone for telling me off if he catches me looking at someone. His lips curl like he’s drunk rotten milk and I can see the disgust in his eyes. I wonder if you’d be disgusted? I hope you wouldn’t, I hope you’d be like Alvaro, he doesn’t care. ‘More girls for me’ he said. I like Alvaro, he’s a nice guy, I hope you are nice too._

*

Carefully putting it back in its envelope Dani took another mouthful of whisky before reaching for another letter.

*

_16 June 2002 – Catalunya_

_Alberto is worried about you. Maybe it’s because you were 14 th in your 4th race, which is really impressive, but I don’t think so._

_He hates your manager. I don’t know why, but the things he calls him makes people in my garage blush._

_I hope it’s not because he caught me looking at you. He’ll never let us be friends if he sees that. I hope you can’t see it; fuck know what you’d think. I see the way you are with the girls, pretending to be all leery like some of the others._

_I hope that’s an act. I hope you are better than that._

*

Repeating his actions of before Dani put the letter back in its envelope, piling it with the two he’d already read, and took another drink before reaching for the next one.

*

_8 September 2002 – Estoril _

_That was rude._

_I get that it was your first retirement in the championship, but manners cost nothing._

_Your father is such a dick. I heard him yelling at you even though it wasn’t your fault. Your manager isn’t much better. I can see why Alberto hates him a bit now._

_My weekend was shit too. Not that you care. You probably don’t even know who I am._

*

_22 September 2002 – Rio _

_Top ten! Well done. You did so well._

_My weekend was shit, but I doubt you noticed._

_I hope your father and manager treat you better this weekend. You deserve it._

*

_3 November 2002 – Valencia _

_A win to cement third in the championship. I’m happy with that._

_I am thinking about next season. Wondering if we’ll be battling. Will that change the fact you nod your head when I pass?_

_Will it make Alberto and Dani hate each other more?_

_I think I’m going to miss seeing you over winter and I’m not entirely sure what that means._

*

Shaking his head, the bundle of read letters growing, Dani sighed, remembering back to that first year they shared the paddock, barely a word passed between them, just looks, glares from Jorge and lingering ones from him. So long ago, so much had changed, yet so much was still exactly the same. Like a big revolving carousel that he couldn’t get off.

*

_6 April 2003 – Suzuka _

_This was supposed to be a good weekend. It started good. Your smile on the plane… I know it was just a friendly smile, but it felt like you didn’t care about Alberto or Dani. Maybe we can be friends? Despite them. Maybe even in spite of them._

_Then our race was shit. 8 th for me and a retirement for you. I hope that isn’t going to be a sign of what is to come._

_None of it really matters now, not after the big race. Like a reminder of how dangerous it is on day 1 of the season. I hate Suzuka, I hope we don’t come here again._

*

_15 June 2003 – Catalunya_

_You like it here. 6 th from 11th on the grid is good. It’s like a weird symmetry you finishing in my grid spot. Particularly with the way they’re trying to make us big rivals._

_The pre-race stuff was a laugh. I wish you’d smile more. You are hot when you smile._

_Actually, maybe you shouldn’t smile. It’s difficult enough as it is._

*

_July 13 – Silverstone_

_I can’t believe this weekend._

_Normally a crash would mean the whole weekend would be a disaster, but yesterday…_

_It was so cold sat on that wall. Just watching the rest of the bikes race, wishing I was still involved. Then you came trudging over, cursing and swearing, dropping down next to me grumbling, like we were best mates._

_I felt sick when I kissed you. Not because of you, but because I thought I’d fucked up so badly. Then you looked at me… I don’t know that anyone has ever looked at me like that, I think if we’ve have been in private you’d have devoured me. And I wouldn’t have minded._

_I’m counting days until the next race._

*

Stuffing the letter in its envelope, the paper more wrinkled than the rest by his desperation to cover up the words, the hopeful, naïve words. Glugging down more whisky Dani stretched out his legs with a grimace on his face, one side of his body hot, and probably red, from the heat of the fire, tears glistening in his eyes, wishing there was a way to rip the plaster off quicker as he remembered every moment of that day. Warm lips on his, softer than they looked, Jorge’s greedy hands grabbing at his leathers, both of them ignoring the fact they were out in the open, the potential for getting caught massive, Dani almost whimpered as he remembered flicking his tongue against Jorge’s lip, their mouths opening for each other, curious tongues, neither of them very experienced, darting into the others’ mouth, noses bumping, everything nervous, needy and naïve. The start of something, but not at all what Dani had expected.


	2. Chapter 2

Putting that letter away Dani breathed out hard, remembering that trip to Australia. Everything on such a high. Everyone, even Alberto, happy and high. The first few days there fun and amazing and feeling like he could walk on clouds.

Then pain. The pain he could remember so distinctly. The pain that was such a horribly familiar part of his career. There was a moment when he landed when it didn’t hurt, like a cruel tease of ‘you heard the crack, you know the pain is going to be epic’ making him wait to be hit by a wall of excruciating pain.

*

_21 October 2003 –_ _Castellar del Vallès_

_That was the most painful flight of my life. Couldn’t do anything and the people moving me – well you know what they can be like. As if saying sorry takes away the pain they caused by bumping my leg._

_Double fracture of the talus and fracture of the other ankle; even for me that’s quite spectacular… I’ll miss Valencia, miss my fanclub’s big celebrations, the end of the season and probably most of winter. Honda are pretty pissed about the testing. It’s just as well I won the title this year, if I hadn’t they’d have been even more pissed._

_I probably won’t see you until next year now. Alberto reckons you are pissed that I’m moving to 250 and you are staying, but I hope he’s wrong. He’s started mentioning you quite a lot recently. I’m hoping that’s because of the spat he had with Dani, not because he knows because he’ll be a nightmare if he knows._

*

_23 December 2003 – Barcelona_

_I hope you don’t wake up. You’ll think I’m crazy, writing you a letter that I’ll probably never send when you are asleep in the same room._

_I still can’t quite work out what happened tonight. How did we end up here? How did you fighting with Dani and your father end up with you coming to my house? How did that end up with us going to a bar? How did that end up here?_

_You are so beautiful when you sleep. All your worries and stresses disappear from your face. I’ve only ever seen you look more beautiful once and that was tonight, just after…_

_I don’t know how we changed from ‘let’s go to a bar and pick up some girls’ to ‘let’s get a hotel room and spend the night together’ but I honestly don’t think I care. You kissed me like no-one has ever kissed me before, like I was going to vanish or like you were trying to consume me. The noises you made made ME shiver. You were so cute when you were apologising for cumming in my mouth, like I even minded, like it wasn't a compliment that you couldn’t hold on. Then the things you did to me – I always expected you to be rough and quick, but you weren’t. You treated me like I was the most precious thing in the world._

_I’m scared now about what will happen in the morning. I know that Dani and Chicho are just as harsh with you as Alberto is with me, and I am so nervous that you’ll put that façade back up. You’ll push me away, angry, like it’s my fault we can’t be ourselves._

_That’s why I’m not sleeping right now. I’m not sure you’ll ever let me get this close to you again and I don’t want to waste a single second of it._

_I’ve tried so hard not to fall in love with you, but I think I’m failing._

*

_24 December 2003 – Barcelona_

_I knew it._

*

Gulping a big mouthful, that letter stinging particularly badly, remembering Jorge’s angry face and horrid words the next morning, Dani quickly stuffed it away, the words painful even after such a long time.

*

_18 April 2004 – Welkom_

_I won the first race! Despite no testing. The ‘he’s too small and light’ bunch can stick that in their pipe and smoke it._

_I don’t even know why I’m writing to you. I didn’t even look at your result this weekend. I could hear you on the plane, but I didn’t turn round._

_I’m going to move on. I deserve better than those words from someone who is as much a sinner as I am._

*

_2 May 2004 – Jerez_

_Urgh._

_I hate wet races._

_I hate wet races where I fall off._

_I hate wet races where you fall off._

_I hate wet races where we both fall off and end up in Clinica Mobile at the same time._

_I hate wet races where you bitch to me about the weather like I didn’t let you fuck me at Christmas._

_I hate wet races where you speak to me like I’m just another rider._

*

_4 July 2004 – Rio_

_I hate you so much._

_*_

Hands trembling, Dani quickly cast that letter aside, not even taking the time to put it back in his envelope. Glugging back whisky until his throat hurt he closed his eyes as tears rolled over his cheeks and splashed onto his knees. This letter one of the very worst, the thoughts it committed to paper thoughts his superstitious self had believed for a while had been the cause of his famous bad luck.

Remembering that long trip to Rio, the flight torturous because Alberto was sat five rows away from him, Raul was busy chatting up a girl across the aisle, but Jorge, Chicho and Dani were behind him.

Dani had no idea why Jorge had told them about what had happened in the hotel, but Chicho and Dani clearly believed it was entirely his fault. At first he shrugged off the little comments, convincing himself that his paranoia was making him hear things in the words that weren’t there.

However, it quickly became clear, as the comments got worse, nastier, that he wasn’t paranoid. The plane turning into a cruel torture chamber at forty thousand feet. It was horrible, but bearable when words like _disgusting_ and _slut_ were coming from the two older men. When they came from Jorge’s mouth, however, they stung **so** hard.

Then there was **that** comment. The one about Dani being on his knees. The one about it being the best place for him. The one about that being the skill that got him onto the grid. The one that tried to denigrate his title. The one that made Alberto, passing for the bathroom, snap his head up and look at Dani, look at him in way that combined disappointment, fury and disgust all at once.

The comment that made Dani, watching the screens in the garage before his own race, think “I’m glad you crashed.” A comment that ended up making Dani vomit at his own thoughts. That turned Dani, momentarily, into the kind of person he despised.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry there's been such a delay, and that it's short. I hope you like it.

_23 August 2004 - Brno_

_Cocky twat._

_You really are a dick. Sat there on that plane making your comments because you won and I was third. Wasn't that when I won at Donnington and Sachsenring and you didn't fucking win, was it?_

_Prick._

_*_

_31 October 2004 - Valencia_

_7 Victories  
_

_13 Podiums_

_Rookie of the Year_

_Champion_

_Not even you can take this away from me._

_*_

Swigging more whisky, his throat burning Dani closed his eyes, remembering the celebration for his title. Memories of Alberto swearing in horror as he and Toni Elias found a karaoke machine, setting it up in Honda's hospitality area. Smiling, he remembered the guy, Julio, the barman for that year, the one who sneaked Dani beer when Alberto wasn't looking, the one who smiled kindly when he congratulated Dani, the one whose hand brushed along Dani's back, the one who tilted his head to invite Dani round the back, the one who kissed like kissing was going out of fashion, the one whose hand done things that made Dani curse... The one that who wasn't Jorge.

*

_ 10 April 2005 - JerezY _

_Pole & Victory.  
_

_You don't get to affect me. Not anymore._

_*_

_1 May 2005 - Shanghai_

_Urgh. I fucking hate the rain. Two wet races in a row sucks.  
_

_*_

_15 May 2005 - Le Mans_

_Maybe I don't hate the rain so much.  
_

_I saw your father today. He was looking his usual cheery self, so I waved at him._

_I hope he doesn't give you shit for it, but it was worth it to see the look on his face!_

_*_

_5 June 2005 - Mugello_

_You can't do that to me. It's not fair.  
_

_Our first 250cc shared podium. Not our first kiss, but it felt like it._

_It felt like you meant it. The way you kissed me, YOU started it, you told Alex someone was looking for him, you made it be that it was just us in that room. You. No-one else._

_And you pulled me to you. Your tongue pushed into my mouth. You wanted it like I wanted it._

_So why? Why just a few hours later do you already hate me again?_

_It's not fair._

_*_

_25 June 2005 - Assen_

_Sebastian didn't know what to make of that today. Utter silence on the podium.  
_

_I give up on you Jorge. I can't keep doing this._

_I don't think you realise how much you hurt me._

_It really hurts._

_*_

_9 August 2005 - Sardinia  
_

_I'm not writing to you anymore._

_I don't really know why I'm writing to you to tell you that I'm not writing anymore unsent letters, but it feels like a good place to put a full stop._

_I met a girl. She's nice. She's called Yvette. She doesn't mind that I'm bi as long as I don't dabble. I can live with that._

_I can live without you._

_Have a nice life Jorge._

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to be honest - this one got totally sidetracked by the world. So sorry.
> 
> I will finish it, and hopefully soon.

30 April 2006 – Istanbul Park Circuit

Urgh. I hate you.

Coming running to me when you get knocked out in the first corner isn’t fair!

2nd and 6th so far in MotoGP and then you come along crying like a bitch, throw my prep out of the window after MONTHS of silence and I finish 14th.

Fuck you Jorge. I’m going to win the next race. I’m going to dominate the weekend and I hope you do shit.

I hate you.

*

14th May 2006 – Shanghai 

Pole Position

Fastest Lap

Race Winner

Fuck You

*

11th September 2006 – Sepang

No, I am _not_ ok you dick.

My knee is wrecked. I can hardly walk. I have no idea how I managed to qualify and even less how I’m going to race tomorrow.

Just leave me alone.

And stop doing the hurt face thing when I shut the door in your face.

*

15th October 2006 – Estoril

Please stop banging on my door.

I’m not letting you in.

I can’t let you in.

It’s all gone to shit – bikes, you, Alberto is livid, I’ve rowed with Yvette and I’m out of beer.

Just leave me alone. Please.

*

31st December 2007 – Geneva 

I have a new house, Yvette has come with me, and my life is good.

I’m putting you in the box with these letters and I’m going to burn them on the bonfire.

Good luck in Moto GP.

Goodbye Jorge

*

5th October 2008 – Phillip Island

Why are YOU so angry at ME?

You can’t be the least bit surprised that I told you to fuck off surely? You can’t treat people like you treated me and then expect me to be your shoulder to cry on when it all goes wrong.

I told you YEARS ago that Dani was a prick. Everyone did. I’m sorry that it’s gone wrong, and I think the way you’ve stuck up for the Espargaro boys is very admirable, but you made your choices and now you have to live with them.

Hitting out with ‘Oh well I’ll go phone my Papa then’ is just pathetic. What happened to your mission to better yourself? Find a level above the gutter and take yourself there. You. Not Dani, not your father, not me, not anyone else except YOU. That’s what the rest of us had to do.

It’s called being a grown up.

*

Sitting back, whisky burning his throat, Dani closed his eyes, able to see Jorge’s face that day, seeing more with hindsight than he’d noticed at the time. At the time he was too angry to see the pain in Jorge’s face, pain like nothing the younger man had ever had to deal with before; questioning all his choices, regretting his loyalties and utter confusion at where to turn next.

Abandoning his glass to swig from the bottle Dani sighed, forcing himself not to regret his choice, knowing that Jorge had to sink or swim, and knowing that he’d likely have drowned them both if Dani had opened the door wider.

*

26th October 2008 – Valencia

This was a bad idea.

We should have been celebrating. You were Rookie of the Year. I was fourth. That’s success.

Ok we weren’t the one putting the 60th plate on the tower, but still it’s not bad.

So why did it taste like failure?

Why did that make me not walk away?

Why did that make me kiss you back?

Why did that make me nod when you suggested coming back here?

Why am I going to come in after finishing this cigarette and get back into bed with you?

Why do we keep doing this?

Why do I keep doing this?

Why can’t I stay away from you?

Why do I feel like this?

When will it ever end?

*

Dani put that letter down, scrunching the paper up, tears streaming down his face, “When? Just, when?”


End file.
